


Whether Near or Far

by stardustedknuckles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Worship, Butt Plugs, F/F, Light Bondage, October Prompt Challenge, PWP, Strap-Ons, Vaguely Modern AU, atmospheric fucking, it's just beau being fucked while it rains, so soft and slow, the softest porn you ever did see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustedknuckles/pseuds/stardustedknuckles
Summary: Just a moment in time between Beau and Yasha, set in a very specific rainy-day atmosphere.Written for prompt/kink/CRInktober Day 22: Soft/Butt Plug/Music
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 10
Kudos: 126





	Whether Near or Far

**Author's Note:**

> So here's what you do with this fic. It's not a songfic, but. In 2013, I heard Panic! At the Disco's "The End of All Things" played over a rain soundtrack. For 7 years I've had the singular image of a half lit, black and white-ish scene that's just two lovers lost in each other while it rains outside. 
> 
> The blend of prompts I had today brought that rushing back. 
> 
> You can read the fic by itself, but if you've got 3 minutes and access to spotify and rainymood, it certainly doesn't hurt the experience.

The grayscale of the afternoon rain took the disparate pieces of the room - the old with the new, the stark with the subdued - and blurred everything together into a hazy familiarity. Soft light bent the old, cracked leather of the Kodak camera that gazed blindly, placidly from the shelf into a kind of synchronicity with the sleek and boxy speaker beside it, from which poured a marriage of piano and distinctive autotune. Shadows pebbled quietly on the far wall, and licked their way in pearly strands down with a casual sense of purpose to disappear where the raindrops that cast them dripped outside into nothingness. Time had no power here, was suspended inside the suggestion of creased sheets and tucked in the shadows of the buttons on the discarded clothes folded neatly over the chair.

They were no exception, the two of them there in the center of the bed. The diffuse light made a black and white photograph of Yasha's lips where they pressed shadows to the curve of Beau's throat, the pane-split square of light as it rippled from pale shoulder to sepia breast and back again with every languid roll of Yasha's hips, as unhurried and present as the clouds outside the world they inhabited together.

Beau had not one hazy thought to spare on how long she might have been lying here, spread completely open for Yasha's slow, thick cock to slip inside her to the hilt and back out of her. Perhaps she'd always been here, just right here, lost in the sensation of Yasha's mouth and the dildo where it dragged against the plug nestled just beneath. There was such a sense of fullness, dull sparks fluttering in the center of her over and over and binding her thoughts as surely and sweetly as Yasha had bound her wrists and her ankles to the four corners of the bed, the earth, of time itself.

She'd never been fucked like this, felt at the same time like this might be all she'd ever known - Yasha's fingers laced between hers, pinning her to this moment, to the damp weight of her tongue on Beau's pulse, the slide of her hair when she dragged open-mouthed kisses down to close her lips around the dark velvet of Beau's nipple. She sucked a gasp from deep within Beau and added a scrape of teeth when her back bowed up to meet her.

The ceiling fan ticked quietly above them, turned the trail of Yasha's hot mouth to a gleaming stripe of prickled gooseflesh that made her breath shudder out of her and her muscles squeeze tighter around Yasha and the plug in a slow echo chamber of pleasure. Through it all, that inexorable and ceaseless roll of Yasha's hips, the light scratch of the straps against the insides of Beau's thighs. Yasha's breath warm on Beau's lips, the barest graze of contact before her tongue slipped between Beau's teeth to make its home there inside her.

A part of her would always exist in this moment, she thought distantly, reduced entirely to nothing more than sensation and the anchored feeling of being owned, of every part of her filled, claimed, and secured - an offering, accepted.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lil morsel, as you do.


End file.
